


And There Reigns Love

by Naimonia



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, mentions of necrophila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naimonia/pseuds/Naimonia
Summary: Five times their cuddling failed at being romantic and the one time it kind of was





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Shakespeare's Sonnet 31

 

1

College was hard. It was full time and Spot and Race didn’t have the pleasure of spending endless hours of time together. They couldn’t sort out exactly what their relationship _was_ and how it worked _._ So they stole away moments whenever they could - ten minutes between classes, a morning trip to get coffee, a phone call, a skype session while they studied. Until they had to get back to what life deemed more important. Class. Study. The gym. Work.

 

They rarely had time to themselves. They were either at college with hundreds of other students, or at home with their roommates. So whenever they got the chance - they latched onto it, savouring every moment in the others company. They didn’t really _do anything_ , but spending time together was nice. Talking, watching movies, playing video games, studying or making out until they got tired and fell asleep.

 

Spot was a full time law student, with a job he hated, so he was almost always busy. He had a habit of overworking, spending too much time on his assignments or work, when he should have been taking care of himself. Race didn’t exactly _like_ it, but he understood. So when they got together and Spot started drifting off to sleep, he didn’t complain.

 

Race just enjoyed the more vulnerable side of Spot that came out when he slept. He wasn’t as angry or hostile, holding himself to the impossible standard he held himself to. Spot was just Spot.

 

Race’s workload wasn’t as intense as Spot’s as he did math instead of law but he was still busy nonetheless. No matter how hard he tried to clear his schedule his time was always occupied with _something_. His part time job, helping someone study, endless lectures, babysitting Les, or a number of other tasks. He was always doing something.

 

The two of them were both busy as all hell, so they rarely got to hang out. Sure they _saw_ each other, grasping at moments before someone had to go, but it wasn't the same. They never really got to relax and actually spend time together. So they had slowly gotten into the habit of cuddling until one of them fell asleep. Spending time together like they _wanted_ to do, and taking the naps that they both _needed._ Not that they’d tell anyone that. In the hours they were free, they’d go over to someone’s apartment, abandon all thoughts of college, work, or friends, and just _be._

 

It was peaceful, but it never stayed that way. So they enjoyed it while they could.

 

They were like that now, in Race’s apartment. It was empty of all his many roommates so they took control of the living room, playing a trashy movie as they lay together on the couch. Spot was the shorter of the pair (to his dismay), and more often than not, ended up laying on top of Race. The taller boy would lay down, and Spot would just flop on top of him. With the closeness of their bodies they would let the stress ease out of them.

 

The movie went unwatched. Both boys occupied with the beat of the other’s chest. The warmth of their bodies. The affection they could finally let out.

 

Spot was shit at feelings, to put it simply. He didn’t know how to deal with them or how to express them. It had taken a while, but after years of friendship with the boy, Race figured out how Spot worked. That Spot used actions not words; that he wanted to be affectionate in public, but couldn’t bring himself to; that he resorted to insults and punching because it was the one way of expression he knew.

 

So Spot voluntarily expressing his brand of his aggressive affection was something Race savoured. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin the moment, didn’t say anything to put him off. Intentionally, at least.

 

With the action movie they had been watching long abandoned, the two boys lay there on the slightly questionable couch. It was an old one Jack had got from some guy he shared classes with. It was gross looking, with a few questionable stains, but it was free and they were poor so they didn’t complain.

 

They lay there, dozing in and out of sleep. Spot was on top of Race, with his head on his boyfriend’s chest and their legs tangled together. They had been there a while, and one of Race’s legs was starting to go dead. Shifting his body slightly, he tried to move it out from under the other boy.

 

Spot just gripped tighter, mumbling his discomfort into Race’s shirt. “If you move again I am going to soak ya,” he said, words edged with sleep and none of his usual hostility.

 

Race just smirked, knowing that even if Spot was completely awake, he didn’t mean his threat. He very rarely did with Race. It was just his way of saying that he was happy laying there on Race’s chest. He enjoyed the affection, but couldn’t say it.

 

“If I don’t move my leg is goin’ to go dead,” Race replied, running his fingers through Spot’s hair. “And then it’ll fall off in a pool of blood.”

 

“You’ll be fine, ya big baby,” Spot said, but moved his body off Race’s leg anyhow. “Crutchy’ll lend you somethin’ when ya lose it.”

 

Race snorted. With the pressure on his leg gone, Race drifted back into the realm of sleep, hoping not to be disturbed. But of course that didn’t happen.

 

Race’s stomach growled, loud enough that even if Spot wasn’t on top of him he would be able to hear it.

 

“I’m hungry,” He announced, stating the obvious. With class all morning, he didn’t have time to eat, and having napped with Spot the thought left his mind. All he had to eat that day was toast and a lukewarm coffee.

 

Spot didn’t move and continued laying on top of Race. “Well that’s tough shit, Higgins, I’m not moving.”

 

“My leg is goin’ ta fall off _and_ I’m goin’ ta starve to death.” Race said, despite the fact he had regained feeling in his leg. “I hope you like corpses, because that’s what I’ll be if you don’t move.”

 

“How did you know I was a necrophiliac, Race?” Spot said, struggling against the urge to smile. ‘You’re so considerate of my kinks.”

 

“Ugh, that’s fuckin’ disgustin’,” Race said, pulling a face. He pushed at Spot who was starting to laugh, hiding his face against Race’s chest to muffle the sound. “Please never bring up fuckin’ corpses while you’re on top of me again.”

 

“Could’ve been worse,” Spot laughed, propping himself up so he could look at Race. He knew exactly what to say and what reaction he’d get. Spot smirked. “I could’ve been fuckin’ ya while I said it.”

 

Race’s face screwed up as he made a noise of disgust, as Spot laughed harder. “You’re disgustin’, you fuckin’ perv. I’m kinkshamin’ the fuck outta ya.” Race said, hitting at Spot’s side.

 

“You fuckin’ bastard,” Spot said against the laughter that was sprouting from his chest. “You’s supposed ta be supportive ain’t ya? Isn’t that what a boyfriend does?”

 

“Not when you bring up necrophilia while we were havin’ a moment,” Race replied, fighting back his own burst of giggles. “ Now get off of me before I starve _and_ vomit.”

 

Race lightly hit as Spot’s side, a notion that he really should get off. Spot sighed dramatically, feigning annoyance but he slid off of Race anyway. Race rolled his eyes at the other boy, and went to get off the couch - he really _was_ hungry - but not before lightly kissing Spot.  He felt Spot’s smile against his lips, a sign that neither of them were really _that_ disturbed by the turn in conversation. Honestly, they were sort of used to it.

 

"What happened ta throwin’ up?” Spot called out, as Race headed towards the kitchen. Race just rolled his eyes at Spot’s teasing.

  
“On an empty stomach? That’s pitiful,” Race said in retaliation, raising his voice as so Spot could still hear him. “Let a guy eat first, and _then_ I’ll show you vomit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole thing is written, and just needs editing, so hopefully I can work my way through it soon. Emphasis on hopefully. 
> 
> Feel free to check out my tumblr, my askbox is always open - themeraldgraves.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

2

Jack Kelly’s parties got so famous (or infamous) around campus, that someone made a bingo card for it. Including squares such as ‘Spot starts a fight’, ‘Race starts betting on the beer pong game’, ‘Kid Blink does a bad pirate impression’, ‘Romeo hits on someone’ and ‘Crutchy starts singing’.

 

They were always eventful, with so many drunk college kids in one space. It was the shit hole Jack shared with Race and a few others - Crutchy, Kid Blink, and Skittery. They didn’t happen every week (to some people’s joy and others dismay) people tended to go a little overboard. And with all the shit that College provided, a lot of them needed the opportunity to let loose and forget about the stress that was shrouding their every thought.

 

They never intended to have that many people around. But word got out until more people just started turning up, and there was nothing they could do. So they just enjoyed it. Until it got late, when Davey and whoever else was sober started ushering people home, so they could try to get _some_ sleep at least. Luckily for Race, he lived there, so he never had to go far when he felt like he was going to crash. And luckily for Spot, Race didn’t mind Spot crashing with him _at all._

 

Even before they were dating, Spot ended up crashing with Race. They were friends. And friends didn’t let friends pass out on the floor. Both of them just brushed it off as friendship or having too much to drink. No way was it that the two of them actually _liked_ each other.

 

The party was winding down, groups of people starting to peel off as the night progressed and the flow of alcohol trickled to a stop. Race and Spot were squished together on the couch with more people than was recommended, drunkenly following where the conversation took them.

 

“Anyone get bingo this time?” Jack asked, eyes scanning over the remains of the party. He was on one end of the couch, and as there was no room, ended up sitting on the arm. Davey was next to him, sandwiched in between him and Bumlets.

 

“I got close,” Mush announced, grabbing at a piece of paper on the floor next to him. “I would have gotten it if Spot started a fight.”

 

Spot snorted from the other end of the couch, one arm around Race and the other gripping a half empty beer bottle. Everyone thought he could handle his alcohol well, almost always staying calm and collected. If you knew him however, you’d know this was a complete lie. With his small frame he was a total lightweight, but was just amazing at nursing a few drinks all night and making it look like he had more.

 

Tonight however, with his first assignment out of the way he decided to indulge himself and drink more than normal. Or maybe it was Race’s doing. Either way he wasn’t complaining.

 

“It’s never too late,” Race added, pointing at Mush who was sitting on the floor across from him. With all the alcohol in his system, his accent was getting thicker and starting to slur, making it hard to understand the guy if you weren’t used to it. “Get him goin’ an’ Spot’ll fight anything.”

 

“Fuck you, Race,” Spot replied, granting a laugh from the others and a snort from Bumlets. “I ain’t that bad. I ain’t the Hulk.”

 

“What if someone paid ya?” Jack asked, turning as much as the limited room would allow. “Would you start a fight then?”

 

“I ain’t a fuckin’ prostitute,” Spot snorted. Normally he would have hit someone, a casual punch to the arm or whatever body part he could reach. But with the alcohol flowing through him, Spot’s anger varied. When he strted drinking he was quiet and broody, then he swore, then the fights happened, and then he mellowed out and started getting more affectionate. Ask him however, and he’d deny it with a hard glare and a threat.

 

“Could you fake a fight?” Bumlets asked, brows furrowed.

 

Blink just laughed. “You could just lie and _say_ he started a fight. Get your bingo that way.”

 

“But that’s cheating!” Mush protested, the others laughing. Skittery gave an audible snort.

 

The conversation started to drift, the boys too drunk to stay on one topic. As it got later and people started drifting asleep, Davey got up to leave - being the sober driver to Bumlets and a few others. Jack complained with a drunken whine. Why did Davey have to go? Spot laughed at him, despite the fact he wasn’t one to judge -  given he was half wrapped around Race.

 

All the extras had left, leaving only those who resided in the apartment (except Spot and Mush). Crutchy left for his room first, hobbling down the hall as he tried to avoid standing on any of the garbage left there. Blink was almost asleep already, curling up on one of their mismatching armchairs. He didn’t move so Jack shrugged and shuffled his way through the party trash to his room. Mush would get him.

 

“‘m tired,” Race mumbled, voice muffled as his face was planted on Spot’s chest. He was starting to droop from the alcohol and late night weighing him down. “Wanna sleep.”

 

“So sleep,” Spot grunted in reply. “I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

 

The pair of them were both wilting, sleep pulling at their eyelids. They were draped over each other, mumbling. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d fallen asleep on the couch, nor would it be the last. One particularly memorable party ended with them all asleep together on the floor. It was basically morning, and they were drunk so it just sort of happened. They didn’t talk about it much.

 

“Don’ wanna sleep here.” Race replied, flopping his arm absentmindedly on top of Spot. “Wanna sleep in bed.”

 

“So move.”

 

“Too tired.”

 

“So sleep here.”

 

“Wanna be in bed wit’ you.” Race said, turning in Spot’s arms to face his boyfriend. Underneath the drunken want to just be with his boyfriend, they both knew something else was there. Spot wasn’t open about PDA, especially the more romantic gestures- gentle kisses, cuddling and other declarations of affection. Not that he was ashamed by it, he just never really got used to receiving it. It flustered him. Not knowing how to handle it, especially in public, he lashed out like a frightened animal. So they kept it between them. Private. Safe.

 

“Gay.” Spot snorted, but his grip on Race tightened. A small tug at his waist, pulling Race in closer.

 

“Jerk,” Race laughed, slowly untangling himself from Spot’s arms. “I think that’s the point of havin’ a boyfriend, Spot.”

 

Spot laughed, allowing said boyfriend to stand. Race stumbled out of his grip, and when he had his balance, pulled Spot into his arms.. He stumbled, falling over his feet into Race. He allowed Race to envelop him in his arms.

 

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” Race said with a drunken grin, causing Spot to groan.

 

“You fuckin’ nerd,” He replied, but didn’t break away from the hug. The two of them stumbled towards Race’s room, not willing to let go. For their own affections or for balance. Maybe both. Neither were complaining.

 

When they made their way through the doorway and into Race’s room, Race unwrapped himself and flopped down on the bed ceremoniously. Spot shut the door behind him and walked over to Race, who was sprawled out like a drunk octopus. He turned over onto his back, holding his arm out for Spot. He grabbed ahold, and fell as Race yanked his arm down. He hit the bed with a thud, laying there swimming in his alcohol addled brain.

 

“Fuckin’ smooth move dickhead,” Spot mumbled into the bedspread as he moved off of Race and towards one of the pillows.

 

“Fuck you,” Race replied, laying where he fell. Too tired to do anything, he just lay there unmoving.

 

“Is that an invitation?” Spot asked, turning onto his back and looking over at Race. He just him off. Spot just laughed, crawling over to kiss him on the head. “C’mon sleeping beauty, you’re the one who wanted ta sleep wit’ me.”

 

Race laughed, pulling himself up and over to his side of the bed. He flung himself down, looking over at Spot. He smiled softly at his boyfriend, who had flopped down beside him. Spot smiled  and ignored the fact his face flushed pink.

 

“So we gonna fuckin’ cuddle or what, punk?” Spot asked, knowing it’d draw a laugh out of Race. Voiced like a threat, but with no malicious intent behind it, it sounded just like Spot. Affection marked by insults and threats.

 

Race snorted, before slowing drawing himself up into a sitting position. “Jus’ lemme take me jeans off first.”

 

“And I thought you were too tired to fuck,” Spot replied, a smirk crossing his face. Race leaned over to hit him with his jeans halfway down his legs.

 

“You’re a dick,” He said, removing his pants so he was left in his star wars underwear and a shirt.

 

“It’s one of my many charms.”

 

“Just get your jeans off before ya fall asleep you ass.” Race said to his boyfriend, whose eyelids were starting to droop. They were both about to fall asleep, and by God, Race was determined to fall asleep in his boyfriend’s arms.

 

“Fuckin’ bossy,” Spot mumbled in reply, sleepy smile slowly making his way across his features. Race knew that he didn’t really mind. Spot started with undoing his button and fly, before trying to remove his pants while still lying down. He lifted up his hips and managed to get them down to about his knees before he had to move.

 

As soon as his pants were out of the picture Spot fumbled his way under the blankets. Race followed, draping himself over Spot like a drunk sloth. They both fell asleep almost immediately, both fighting sleep for so long they had no other option but to give in.

 

Spot had a feeling he was going to wake up hungover, smelling of alcohol with Race’s drool on his chest, but in that moment he didn’t care. It was just them in that room. Safe away from prying eyes and nosy friends. Spot smiled.

 

“Hey Spot?” Race whispered.

 

“Yeah?”

  
“I need to piss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew staying up til 6am talking about video games was such good motivation to edit?
> 
> Anyway, university is slowly drawing to a close so we'll see if my schedule and shitty motivation levels lets me edit


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been ages since i posted, university has been kicking my ass lmao

3

“If you glare any harder at that paper it’ll catch fire,” Spot said without looking up from his textbook. He could see Race from over the top of the pages, staring down at his textbook with a scowl on his face. He was just sitting off to one corner of his bed, staring angrily at his own textbook.The two of them had been studying together for a while now, keeping each other company as they worked. They hoped that  the company of the other would let the work seem not as bad. Clearly it wasn’t working.

 

Throwing his textbook down onto his bed, Race made a noise of frustration. “Calculus is fuckin’ stupid, and I’m fuckin’ stupid for takin’’ it.”

 

Spot looked up to see Race glaring while surrounded by books and pieces of paper. He had an important test coming up, but wanted to see Spot so they compromised by studying together. They’d been studying  for a while, as a  large chunk of Race’s grade was on the line. It was unlike a lot of other times they’d studied as they managed to stay focused on the papers and not each other.

“You’re not,” Spot started, marking his page and shutting his book. “You’re not stupid for takin’ Calculus since you’re fuckin’ good at it Race.”

 

He saw his boyfriend’s brow furrow as he snorted. “Tell that to the problems I’m tryin’ to solve since I can’t fuckin’ get it right. I’ve been tryin’ for fuckin’ ages and no matter how many times I read it and practice it I can’t get this one fuckin’ thing right.”

 

“You’ve been working too long,” Spot announced. “Put it away, take a break and try later after you’ve rested.”

 

Groaning in frustration, Race ran his hands through his hair - not gelled and styled as it usually was, but clean and messy from tugging at it as he got more and more stressed. “That’s the thing Spot,  _ I can’t.  _ The test is fuckin’ soon and I can’t afford to not know this piece of shit Calculus.”

 

“If you keep goin’ you’re goin’ to lose all your hair,” Spot said, gesturing over at Race, who untangled his hands from his hair sheepishly. “You’re tired an’ frustrated an’ have been working too long.  _ Take. A. Fuckin’. Break.”  _

 

“Is that an order?” Race snorted, raising an eyebrow.

 

Spot just glared back. “If you say ‘kinky’ I’m goin’ ta hit you.”

 

“I wasn’t gunna say nothin’,” 

 

‘Sure you weren’t.” Spot said, holding back a snort. “Now help me clear these books off.” 

 

Race just raised his eyebrow, pulling a face at Spot. 

 

“Don’t give me that look ya bum,” Spot replied, starting to pile up all his law work. “You can’t take a break with all this shit here.”

 

“Now what kind of break takes an empty bed, hmm?” Race said, not even bothering to hide the ridiculous look on his face. Spot just rolled his eyes at him.   
  


‘A fuckin’ nap,” He replied, throwing his books off of Race’s bed and vaguely in the direction of his bag. He saw Race packing up his various textbooks, notebooks, and papers, pulling a face while he did so. There was a small smile on his face, eyes soft with affection and fondness. Spot was looking out for him. Forcing him to take the break he wasn’t going to take otherwise.

 

Race dumped all of his things onto the floor just as Spot did, turning to the other boy and raising an eyebrow. “What’re you? A fuckin’ grandma?”

 

“I’m fuckin’ tired.” Spot snorted, moving himself over to the pillows and dropping himself onto the bed with a thump. “You try studyin’ law contracts without gettin’ tired.”

 

The truth was, Spot wasn’t that tired at all. He was getting bored after reading about law, sure, but he knew Race was. The frustration and the stress had been eating away at him for a while. Studying instead of sleeping, running on coffee and energy drinks, not eating that well - it was all getting to him. He needed to sleep, but wasn’t about to admit that any time soon. So Spot said he was tired and was going to nap whether Race liked it or not. So Race would cuddle up with him and get the rest he needed.

 

“I’ve got enough on my plate, thanks,” Race replied, crawling over from the end of the bed to the pillows where Spot was resting. He flopped down onto his side so he was staring at Spot, hair mussed from the pillow. “So how we doin’ this.”

 

Spot opened his arms, looking at Race with a soft expression, his eyes gentle. You could tell he was close to someone when Spot let his guard down. He didn’t with anyone else. Only those he was incredibly close with. And it was like that with Race. It was comforting and safe, unlike the stress and uncertainty of his college life. Letting the answer to Race’s question go unanswered, Spot just smiled softly. It was up to Race. 

 

Race shuffled closer, letting Spot envelop him in his arms. They ended up with their heads together, arms wrapped around one another. Spot had one arm around Race’s waist, which he used to tug his boyfriend closer. Tilting his head upwards, Spot pressed his lips to Race’s forehead with a gentle kiss. Race seemed to wilt in his arms, finally letting go of the frustration and stress. 

 

“Now sleep,” Spot said quietly, closing his eyes and letting himself rest. He hoped that Race would do the same. 

 

“Givin’ orders are ya?” Race replied, a humorous edge to his voice. 

 

Spot sighed, opening his eyes. He knew exactly what Race was going to say. Race had said it often enough, and ruined the mood as many times.  “Don’t say it.”

 

“How dominant of you. How Kinky.” Race finished, smirking. Spot just glared, drilling daggers into Race. Race didn’t mind, as he could still feel Spot rubbing his hand slowly over his back. “What? You wouldn’t let me say it before.”

 

“If you open your goddamn mouth and kill the mood again I’m goin’ to push you off this bed,” Spot replied. It happened often - the mood being ruined - with one of them being a smartass or someone telling a dumb joke. They were used to it. It didn’t  _ really  _ ruin the mood, but the more Spot held Race in his arms the more he wanted to keep him there forever. Silent and safe. Just each other. No roommates, no tests, no study, and as little dumb comments as they could manage. “Sleep.”

 

Race was silent after that, and Spot found himself creeping into the realms of sleep more quickly than he expected. With Race in his arms and hours of study under his belt, no wonder he was tired. But he wasn’t the only one. Race fell into sleep almost immediately, body getting heavier in Spot’s arms and his breath evening out. Spot had no idea how long they stayed like that, but he didn’t care to check. He woke before Race, Spot knew that much, but was kind of expecting that. He could still hear the boy’s even breathing and feel his breath on his chest. 

 

Spot closed his eyes and let himself drift into sleep.

 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Spot noticed they had drifted apart in sleep, so Spot pulled him closer. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend once more, hoping Race wouldn’t wake. Normally Spot wasn’t this open about wanting affection, but at this point he was still drowsy enough to not care. 

 

Race whined, starting to turn his body as he woke. Spot cursed under his breath. He dropped his head onto Race’s. 

 

“Sorry,” Spot said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Did I wake ya?”

 

Race nodded, not caring that his face was pressed into Spot’s chest. He whined again, one of those quiet half asleep noises that made Spot smile. Race was downright adorable at times. Not that Spot said that. 

 

“‘S okay,” Race mumbled in reply. He wriggled to free his arms, Spot loosening his grip on Race so the boy could rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

 

“Sleep well?” Spot asked, voice still quiet, as if the moment would be broken if he so much as raised his voice. Race hummed in agreement, mind still too dulled by sleep to form a reply. With the sleep now out of his eyes, Race dropped his arms onto Spot’s chest. He looked up at his boyfriend, sleepily blinking as he struggled to keep his eyes awake. Race smiled, and Spot leaned over to kiss his forehead once more. 

 

“Told ya, you needed the break,” Spot said, not even bothering to hide his smirk. 

 

“You ass,” Race replied, laughing as he hit Spot’s chest. “Smug ain’t a good look on ya.”

 

“Smug’s a great look on me,” Spot replied, smirk not leaving his face. “I knew you needed to rest an’ you didn’t. I think that gives me right to be smug.”

 

Race snorted, moving so he was face to face with Spot. “I’m pretty sure I ain’t the only one, Spot. You needed this as much as I did.”

 

Spot pulled a face, but Race continued on before he even had a chance to speak.

 

“You’ve been studyin’ just as much as I have, readin’ all those thick law books you’ve got. You’ve got a lot to learn, I ain’t denyin’ that, so you need to be studyin’. But you’re gettin’ just as stressed as I have.” Race smiled at him, a sign that he wasn’t mad at Spot for hiding up all the stress that had been eating away at him. He knew how Spot worked, knew the signs that he was bottling everything up. His anger came out in bursts, short flares of his temper that he had learnt to contain more than he had in high school. “You need to unwind as much as me, and I just know just the way.”

 

Spot just smirked as he raised an eyebrow, letting Race continue his thought. There was a moment of silence before Race spoke again.

 

“What's the one thing that never works when it's fixed?” Race said, a serious look on his face. Spot just looked at him. “A jury.”

 

“Fuck off,” Spot groaned, as Race started to laugh. Say what he wanted, Spot loved his jokes.

 

“If a deaf person goes to court is it still called a hearing?” Race continued, his serious face melting away with the emergence of one of his shit eating grins.

 

Spot pulled a face, not wanting to grace Race with an answer. 

 

“ What's the difference between a mathematician and a lawyer?” Race added, knowing that Spot would hate the joke, but it would get him to focus on Race and not his study. “Mathematician's know they're boring!”

 

He started laughing as Spot made a noise of disgust and pushed at Race, recoiling from his arms. “That joke’s fuckin’ awful Race.”

 

“Come on you love it,” Race said, trying to resist Spot’s hands pushing him closer to the edge of the bed.

 

“Oh no I don’t,” Spot replied as he continued shoving at him, but not with malice. This was not ‘I’m mad and want to make you feel it’ Spot Conlon. This was ‘You just made some terrible jokes and you are getting pushed off the bed for it’ Spot Conlon. 

 

Race continued laughing, stopping only as he hit the floor with a loud thud. Spot looked over at Race, a look of concern flashing over his face. He was worried he had actually hurt him. Race smiled to show he was okay, before resorting to the smartass comments that the situation required.

 

“Hey, I could’ve said worse jokes,” Race argued, sitting up from the floor. “But I didn’t”

 

Spot snorted in reply. “Oh and why’s that?”

 

“Didn’t want to offend you,” He said with a smile, before giving his boyfriend a shit eating grin. “Also, you’d hit me.”

  
Spot threw a pillow at his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this got super cheesy  
> good thing i have lame lawyer jokes to ruin the mood  
> check me out on tumblr if you want to say hey - themeraldgraves.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

4

 

Spot’s apartment was fucking tiny. Only three people lived there for a start, and that included Spot. The rent was cheap and everything worked to a degree, so it’s not like the lack of space mattered. It was good for a student apartment. But with the extra room, and the friendly roommates, and the fact it’s closer to campus, they almost always ended up at Race’s. Neither of them minded, but it always made time spent at Spot’s feel different.

 

Like when you slept over at a friend’s place and you were really hesitant with everything, because you knew that nothing there was yours. Time at Spot’s felt like that. For Race anyway.

 

But it also made it special. Spot was letting him inside his home. Race got to see the place where Spot ate, showered, slept, studied. Where he _lived_. It was a space that not many people got to see - especially his room.

 

It was where they always went when they spent time at Spot’s apartment. His room. One of his roommates were always in the living room, and Race didn’t know them all that well, so he retreated to the safety of the space that was _Spots and Spots alone_. They weren’t mean or bad people by any means, they just weren’t friends. Plus - they didn’t bother them as much as Race’s roommates did. Someone always needed something.

 

So when Spot had been overworking himself, building up stress and anger inside him until he felt fit to burst - Race suggested he go box it out. Go wrap up his hands and beat a punching bag until all his rage was gone. It worked for the most part, let him rage and hit until he had no energy left to feel angry at all. So once he had drained himself of energy Race was there to hold him until he fell asleep.

 

Spot was a peaceful sleeper, which was surprising. He was the kind of person who was always wound up about something. Endless tension lying just underneath his skin, waiting to be released. Anger was his downfall, and Spot knew it. Inherited from his father, it was a trait he despised. But he worked at it. Trying to rein it in, control it, release it in a way that wasn’t as violent as it had been in the past. It didn’t always work. But he tried, which was more than his father ever did.

 

He wasn’t violent or angry when he slept. Spot was the most relaxed Race had ever seen him, without the usual tension and hostility he usually had.

 

Plus - when he slept, Spot was a cuddler. Which was adorable. Race loved it, watching this hostile and angry man curl up in his side. His face was soft, lacking its usual harsh lines and cold glares, giving way for long eyelashes gently fluttering on his cheeks. Spot had one arm loosely curled around Race’s side, and the other pressed between their chests. He was wrapped around his boyfriend as best he could.

 

Race smiled to himself. Seeing Spot when it was just the two of them was a privilege. He was so unlike everyone’s expectations - what he wanted everyone to think of him. Spot wasn’t always a harsh, brooding, angry, take no shit guy with zero remorse. He was soft, relaxed, caring and affectionate. When it suited him. Spot didn’t express his caring side in words, letting his actions say it all for him. If you  got close enough to the guy you’d start to realise it. That he wasn’t a total asshole _all_ the time. Most of the time, sure, but he often didn’t mean it. With Race at least.

 

And when he was asleep, Spot showed a side of himself that he didn’t let people see. That despite his bravado and sharp edges, he craved affection as much as the next person. If not more.

 

Spot didn’t talk about his childhood  - it wasn’t a time he liked to recall - but Race knew his parents were _not_ affectionate and loving. So he was starved for the gentle touch of someone who cared, the kiss on the cheek that meant only chaste affection, a person he trusted to do no harm.

 

Still asleep, Spot turned over, curling up with his back into Race’s side. Race froze, waiting for Spot to settle before he relaxed back into his hold. Spot wriggled, whining slightly before rolling back over, throwing out his arms. Race wouldn’t have minded the movment if it wasn’t for the hand that smacked him in the face.

 

“Ah, fuck,” Race exclaimed, more out of shock than of actual pain. It wasn’t a soft hit, but it wasn’t hard either. Spot could do much worse. One of his hands instinctively moved to his face, pushing Spot’s stray hand away.

 

Spot’s arm was flung across his body with the motion of Race’s push. Spot scrunched up his face as he groaned, adjusting his body as he woke.

 

“Whassamatter?” Spot said, all of his words blurring together with sleep. Blinking his eyes as he squinted at the light in the room, Spot rolled to look at Race.

 

“You punched me.” Race said, turning to look at Spot. His boyfriend still drowsy from sleep, his eyelids drooping as he blinked slowly. Spot scrunched up his face again, and Race almost laughed at how adorable it was, like a child who didn’t want to be woken up for school.

 

“I was asleep,” Spot replied, brow still furrowed.

 

“Yeah, you were asleep when you punched me.” Race replied, smiling to show Spot it was okay, he wasn’t going to hold it against him. He might tease him sure - that was always fun - but he didn’t do it out of malice. “Even in sleep you’re an ass.”

 

Spot made a noise as he shoved at Race, who was now laughing. His boyfriend was still half asleep, and far too much fun to tease.

 

“Fuck off,” Spot retorted, voice hoarse from disuse.

 

“I don’t think I will,” Race laughed. “You punched me so I think I deserve to tease ya.”

 

“No fair, I don’t even remember doin’ it,” Spot said with a scowl, glaring over from his position on the pillow next to Race. They weren’t cuddling, but that didn’t matter. Even when they were apart Race could feel the love. That drowsy, almost lazy affection that sprouted from time spent together doing nothing.

 

“But that don’t dismiss the fact that you still hit me,” Race replied, a smile gracing his face that was just close enough to a smirk to make Spot frown.

 

Spot shuffled closer, until he was right next to Race, the two boys face to face. His head was bowed, and Race could see his mouth was tense. Lifting his arm, Spot hesitantly moved it towards Race. His boyfriend didn’t move or object, so he rested it on Race’s waist. His shirt had ridden up, so his hand rested on the patch of skin above his waistband. Race sighed at the contact, leaning into the touch. They were both silent, letting the moment drag on.

 

“I’m sorry,” Spot whispered, not daring to look up at his boyfriend. His head remained bowed, his lips taut.. He wasn’t the best with apologies, but he tried as best he could.

 

“It’s okay,” Race laughed, putting his fingers under Spot’s chin and tilting Spot’s head up so he could meet his eyes. “I was just bein’ a dick.”

 

“Yeah you were, ”Spot snorted. Removing his hand from his boyfriend’s waist, he curled his hand into a fist and hit Race’s shoulder. Race recoiled away from Spot in reflex.

 

“What was that for?” He asked, voice rising, but he was trying to repress a smile.

 

“For bein’ a dick.”

 

“All right, you’re gettin’ it now,” Race said, sitting up off the bed and jumping on Spot. The two boys were laughing as they fumbled on the bed. Race aimed his hands for Spot’s waist, knowing _exactly_ where he was the most ticklish.

  
“Fuck off Race,” Spot laughed, squirming away from Race’s roaming hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey another one look at me go


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was loosely inspired by the youtube series [Million Dollars But](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW7blzjT3sA&list=PLUBVPK8x-XMgM5-S09D8FqrLcd2bSL_oQ)

5

 

With the weather getting colder Spot slowly got worse at dealing with it. He was not built for winter. So their cuddling migrated under the covers. Spot was that person who really felt the cold, and always ended up in lots of layers. It really diminished his threatening appearance, but with a glare as killer as his, no one dared say so.

 

Their apartments didn’t help any, as they were built for students with no money. Which means no heating. So they ended up in bed more often than not, cuddling under the covers to try and regain some warmth that the cold weather had denied them. Like penguins - huddling together to sap the warmth from one another's bodies.

 

With a movie playing in the background on Race’s TV, and the pocket of warmth they had created under the covers, Spot was content. But Spot had a feeling it wouldn’t last long. They didn’t have exactly the most _normal_ of relationships, and couldn’t exactly be considered _romantic_ at the best of times, but what they had worked. They had far more smartass comments, insults, and threats of violence than most couples, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“Okay, so, you get a million dollars,” Race started, completely ignoring the movie that they were supposed to be watching. “But, every time you burp, sneeze, or cough - confetti and glitter comes out your mouth.”

 

Spot didn’t react, used to Race’s weird questions by now. You couldn’t be friends with the guy without hearing a ‘what if’ question at one point. And just as you thought that you got used to the questions, Race made them weirder and weirder. But Spot was dating the guy, so they barely phased him.

 

“Does it hurt?” Spot asked, looking down at his boyfriend, who was comfortably lounging in his arms. “Or is it just a thing that happens.”

 

Race seemed to the ponder the question for a moment before responding. “Nah, it don’t hurt. Just makes bein’ sick really fuckin’ weird.”

 

“I’ll do it.” Spot responded, shrugging as much as he could with Race in his arms weighing him down. “Fuck it, why not. I could use a million.”

 

Race started to laugh, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes. “Maybe now people will actually be able to tell that you’re gay.”

 

“There are other ways to find out i’m gay instead of watching me burp glitter,” Spot snorted. “Like the fact I have a boyfriend. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Race replied, going along with Spot’s joke. “What’s he like?”

 

“He’s a real piece of shit,” Spot said, smirking. Race hit at Spot, aimlessly hitting his fist at whatever part of Spot was closest. His boyfriend just laughed, leaning down to kiss Race on the forehead. “But he has his uses.”

 

“Like what?” Race asked, smiling, not really offended at Spot’s insult. They’ve both said worse, and both didn’t really mean it. They’d know if they wanted it to hurt.

 

“He’s a good cook, for a start” Spot started, rubbing his hand absentmindedly along Race’s arm. Race just snorted. They both knew Spot was terrible in the kitchen. He tried his best, but no matter what he did, something always went wrong. He was never any good with food, plus, it’s not like his parents cared to teach him.

 

“Because you can’t cook for shit,” Race mumbled in reply.

 

“I compliment ya and that’s the fuckin’ thanks I get?” Spot said, thumb rubbing in small circles. “Why do I even try.”

 

“Because I’m a fuckin’ delight.”

 

Spot snorted, causing Race to hit him again.

 

Race settled back into his boyfriend’s arms as he spoke. “Alright smartass, your turn.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Spot started, trying to think of a good question. “You get a million dollars but for the rest of your life, every time you fart, you shoot up three feet in the air.”

 

“Like a jet powered fart?” Race laughed. “That’s hilarious.”

 

“So will ya take the million or not?”

 

“Oh, obviously,” Race replied, starting to pull a face. “Do you even know me at all?”

 

They settled back into silence, watching the movie they had started and then promptly abandoned. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest, it was comfortable. Content. There wasn’t any pressure to speak if they didn’t want to. They could lie there in silence only broken by huffs of laughter and the occasional sarcastic comment.

 

“Hey Spot?” Race asked, turning to look at his boyfriend. Spot hummed in acknowledgement as he returned the look. “I farted.”

 

Spot started to pull a face at Race’s straightforward statement. He should be used to it by now, especially after being friends for most of highschool and now college. “Gross.”

 

Race just started laughing, chest shaking against Spot. Spot didn’t know why at first, his comment wasn't _that_ funny. And then the smell hit him.

 

“You asshole!” Spot made a noise of disgust as Race continued laughing. Pushing the other boy off him, he hit at his boyfriend. “Way to kill the mood.”

 

“But I did it for you!” Race laughed, face slowly going red.

 

Spot pulled a face. “Fuck off.”

 

Race was still laughing, sitting away from him now. Spot smirked, getting an idea. Race looked over and his laughter died down. “Why are you smiling at me?”

 

Spot sat up and grabbed the edge of the covers, before shoving it over Race’s head. The boy struggled, so Spot just pushed him down into the bed and pulled the covers completely over his body. Race squirmed, so Spot leaned on him with all his weight to keep him in place. Adjusting against Race’s wriggling form, Spot managed to get up and sit on his boyfriend.

 

“Spot get off’a me!” Race mumbled from under the covers. “You’re heavy an’ it stinks in here!”

 

“Well that’s your fault now ain’t it?” He replied, pushing his boyfriend down.

 

Race started laughing from under the covers, and Spot could feel him moving from underneath him. “I couldn’t help it!”

 

“Yes you could!” Spot replied, jumping in place, causing Race to grunt.

 

“Alright! Maybe I could’ve!” Race laughed, pushing one of his arms out from the trap of blankets. “Can I go now?”

 

“Never,” Spot laughed. “You’re mine now.”

 

“Oh? Yours am I?” Race replied, pushing out his other arm. “Here I thought I was a free man.”

 

The door creaked, and Spot jerked his attention towards the doorway. Race didn’t lock it ever (even though there were times where he probably _should_ ) so his roommates had gained a habit of walking in without knocking. They really should learn better, what with Race having a boyfriend and all.

 

Crutchy stood in the doorway, looking rather confused. His brow was furrowed as he looked at the sight before him. “I don’t know what i’m lookin’ at right now.”

 

“Is that Crutchy?” Race asked, trying to wriggle his way out of Spot’s trap. Spot didn’t budge, keeping him pinned.

  
“Hiya Race,” Crutchy said, a confused tone lilting his voice. “I was gunna tell ya that dinner was ready, but I see you’re occupied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact these boys are gross
> 
> also i finished my last essay of the year so hopefully i can get the next chapter done soon  
> we're finally up to the +1  
> the romance  
> prepare yourselves


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotty Biscotti is Spot's contact name of Race's phone  
> asshole is Race's contact name on Spot's phone
> 
> shoutout to my friend for giving me the name Spotty Biscotti

####  +1

 

**[4:21pm] Spotty Biscotti:** yo race

**[4:23pm] asshole:** sup

**[4:24pm] Spotty Biscotti:** you doing anything tonight?

**[4:25pm] asshole:** got some math shit to read but that’s it. why?

**[4:26pm] Spotty Biscotti:** both roommates have fucked off. said they wont be home til late sunday

**[4:28pm] asshole:** dont you have work?

**[4:29pm] Spotty Biscotti:** got it off

**[4:30pm] Spotty Biscotti:** some dude wanted more shifts so i gave one up

 

Race tried to smother a smile - he was in the middle of one of his lectures and if he smiled people would absolutely stare at him. But the urge was still there. He hadn’t seen Spot in over a week - they both became overwhelmed with college work as well as  _ actual  _ work. And Spot had got work off.  _ For him.  _ Those two words were left unsaid, hanging in the air like dust, but they both knew it was there. After going to highschool together Race had gotten used to seeing Spot every day. And now with real life getting in the way, he was starting to realise how much he missed him. Not that he’d say that.

 

**[4:31pm] asshole:** is that an invitation im hearing spot conlon?

 

Spot was bad with emotions and commitment - two things a relationship required. So they took it slow, easing him into it bit by bit. They didn’t even start with an actual relationship. They went from drunk hookups to ignoring their feelings and  _ then  _ to an actual relationship. It took some time, and a lot of waiting, but Race was willing to wait for as long as Spot needed. And Spot was getting there. 

 

**[4:33pm] Spotty Biscotti:** if you bring takeout it is

**[4:34pm] asshole:** class finishes at 5 ill be over after then

**[4:34pm] asshole:** do we want chinese or pizza

**[4:36pm] Spotty Biscotti:** chinese?? duh

**[4:37pm] Spotty Biscotti:** please

 

Race smiled at his phone before he remembered where he was. Luckily, he was far back enough in the room that he hoped that no one - especially not the lecturer - saw him smiling at his phone. He fired away a quick reply. He and Spot weren’t the most romantic of couples, and Race understood that, but there were times he wishes they were. So he sent the message. It  _ could  _ be seen as joking, but it  _ could _ be romantic. Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone else would see it. It was just for Spot.

 

**[4:39pm] asshole:** just for you, babe <3

 

And then, all sent in relatively quick succession, Spot replied.

 

**[4:41pm] Spotty Biscotti:** <3

**[4:41pm] Spotty Biscotti:** now hurry up and finish your math you fucking nerd

**[4:42pm] Spotty Biscotti:** im hungry

 

The time until class was over seemed to stretch on forever, seconds elongating to minutes elongating to hours elongating to days. Now that Race had something he was looking forward to, the lecture couldn’t end soon enough. Normally he didn’t mind his lectures for this particular paper - the lecturer was nice and he understood the work. But now it was the opposite of what he wanted.

 

He tried to sit still and look patient in the lecture, not wanting to seem like a total dick, but Race hadn’t seen his boyfriend in a long time and  _ really  _ wanted to see him. Putting away his phone as not to distract himself he focused on the powerpoint slides and equations in front of him. 

 

It wasn’t long before his lecturer announced the end of the lecture and Race tried not to sigh with relief. He shoved his things into his bag as he hurried out of the lecture theatre as soon as he could.

 

Walking across campus to his car, Race pulled out his phone and texted Spot

 

**[5:04pm] asshole:** that was quite possibly the longest lecture of my life

**[5:04pm] asshole:** but its over now thank fuck

**[5:05pm] Spotty Biscotti:** looking forward to something hmm??

 

Race snorted at Spot’s roundabout way of asking if he missed him, as he tried to text and walk at the same time. He wanted to cram as much conversation with Spot in as he could before he had to drive.

 

**[5:06pm] asshole:** maybe i was just tired of listening to someone talk about math for two hours did ya think about that???

**[5:06pm] asshole:** but yeah im looking forward to something alright

**[5:07pm] asshole:** this sweet ass chinese food im getting

**[5:07pm] asshole:** also you

 

Race found his way to the parking lot, maneuvering his way through the empty cars. He eventually found his, unlocking it and throwing his things into the passenger seat. Seating himself, he quickly checked his phone for a reply from Spot. 

 

**[5:08pm] Spotty Biscotti:** you better

**[5:09pm] Spotty Biscotti:** text me when youre at wongs

 

Receiving texts like that always made Race smile. Those ‘text me when you’re there’ texts. Those ‘I want to know you’re safe’ texts. Spot could say he cared without  _ saying  _ that he cared. It didn’t make sense to a lot of people, and would annoy others, but it was just how Spot and Race worked. At least for the moment. They hadn’t been dating for a very long time, and with their issues and hesitancy, dancing around speaking words they couldn’t say just yet were to be expected. 

 

He headed to Wong’s Takeaway, heart fluttering in his chest, knowing it was one step closer to seeing Spot. Plus, he really  _ was  _ hungry, and the food was really,  _ really _ good. It was famous with all the college students, for its relatively cheap and good quality food. It wasn’t super close to the campus or anything, but it was worth the drive. Spot and Race had been there for so long they had a usual, both of them knowing exactly what to order. 

 

It wasn’t long before he got there, the traffic not as bad as it could have been. He pulled out his phone as he exited his car, texting Spot like he asked. 

 

**[5:26pm] asshole:** at wongs. the usual?

 

Race waited at the back of the store as he waited for Spot’s reply. They almost always got their usual, but on the off chance he wanted something different, he decided to wait. There was a line anyway, it’s not like it was hassle. 

 

**[5:27pm] Spotty Biscotti:** of course

 

He ordered quickly, smiling at the lady working the counter before sitting back in one of the hard plastic chairs that adorned the walls. 

 

**[5:30pm] asshole:** just ordered. waiting now 

**[5:32pm] Spotty Biscotti:** how longs the wait?

**[5:33pm] asshole:** like 5-15 mins

**[5:34pm] Spotty Biscotti:** gross

**[5:34pm] Spotty Biscotti:** too long

**[5:35pm] asshole:** hold your fuckin horses mr impatient

**[5:36pm] asshole:** but yeah. i get it. i cant wait to see you too

**[5:38pm] Spotty Biscotti:** <3

**[5:39pm] Spotty Biscotti:** seriously tho hurry up nerd im starving to death over here

 

Race smiled at his phone, it wasn’t often that Spot sent a heart or a kiss or other romantic things unprompted. So when he did, Race treasured it. He would have stayed and enjoyed the moment, but his order was called, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

 

**[5:40pm] asshole:** <3

**[5:41pm] asshole:** just got the food. heading to yours now mr bossy

 

Race thought the drive to Wong’s took forever, but he was wrong. The drive to  _ Spot’s  _ took forever. Just the knowledge that Spot was there, waiting for him,  _ longing _ for him. He could deny it all he wants, they both knew it to be true. They missed each other like the sappy bastards they pretended they weren’t, and covered it up with insults like the assholes they actually were. 

 

Tapping his fingers against his steering wheel impatiently, Race drove to Spot’s without a second thought. It was a hassle, Spot living over in Brooklyn, but it was at that point where Race no longer cared. He knew that Brooklyn was special to Spot, plus he had an apartment with relatively cheap rent - which was a miracle in itself. So Race got over it rather quickly, Spot staying at his often helped. 

 

Eventually he pulled up at Spot’s apartment, chest swelling with nerves he didn’t know he was feeling. He’d known the boy for years, why was he getting nervous now? He knew him like the back of his hand. Spot had steadily become a constant in his life. Someone always there. He wasn’t perfect, and God knows Race wasn’t either, but they matched up well. Two fucked up peas in a fucked up pod. 

 

He grabbed his things, locked his car and headed up to Spot’s front door. Taking deep breaths, Race tried to steady the fluttering feeling in his chest. The evening air was cool against his skin and in his lungs, soothing the simmering heat in his chest. 

 

Pulling up at the door to Spot’s apartment Race froze. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts before knocking. There were faint noises from inside the building - Spot making his way to the door. Race tried not to fidget, repressing the itch to do  _ something.  _ Before he could do anything the door swung open, revealing Spot in low slung sweatpants and a shirt that read ‘MADE IN BROOKLYN’. 

 

“You took your time,” Spot said with a smirk, leaning on the door frame. “I’m starving to death in here.”

 

Race snorted. The hadn’t seen each other in a week and as soon as they met up they were back with the snark. They wouldn’t be them without it. “It’s not like I wanted to be stuck in traffic for fuckin’ ages. I’m here now ain’t I?”

 

Spot just rolled his eyes, smirk still playing at his lips. “Get in here, nerd, you’re letting in a draft.”

 

“Is the mighty Spot Conlon scared of a little cold air?” Race joked, stepping into the apartment. “What will the people think.”

 

“The people won’t fuckin’ know,” Spot replied, without any real malice as he shut the door behind the pair of them. Race slid his bag off his shoulder and hung it on one the hooks that adorned the entrance way. Spot took the bag of food from him, so Race could kick off his shoes. “‘Cause it ain’t true.”

 

“You sound sure of yourself there, hotshot,” Race smirked, taking off his shoes. “How d’ya know I won’t tell anyone?”

 

Spot smirked. “I’ve got my ways.”

 

Race raised an eyebrow as Spot stalked closer, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Spot’s hands were at his jaw, sharp eyes piercing into his. It was like that moment before leaping into the ocean. Feeling the sturdy ground beneath your feet, strong and safe, but only seeing the vast ocean before you. Knowing you were about to take the plunge.

 

Kissing Spot was like the jump. Leaving any and all things that grounded you to be enveloped by the water. The world disappeared, only leaving you and the endless force of nature that surrounded you. 

 

He kissed like he had something to prove, throwing all his being into the connection of mouths, the roaming of hands, the bodies pressed together. And Race loved it. He was swept away with the current of it, letting the emotion roll through him like a wave. 

 

Race kissed back with just as much force, trying to match the emotion in equal measure. They were gasping for breath, mouths disconnecting and connecting with such force Race didn’t know how to handle it. 

 

So he slowed it down, sliding his hands across Spot’s waist to match the slowing of his mouth. Spot matched his pace, the kiss getting lazy and soft, drawing out the moment. Race pulled his mouth away, Spot chasing it with his own. Race just laughed, Spot’s chest pressed against his own. 

 

“Easy there, tiger,” Race said, face still close to Spot’s so he could feel his breath mixing with his. “Or we’ll never get anythin’ done.”

 

“And what’s wrong with that?” Spot teased, leaning in to nip at Race’s mouth with his teeth. “No harm in reunitin’ with my boyfriend.”

 

Race just wrapped his hands further around Spot’s waist. “I spent good money on this Chinese food, and by God we are goin’ to eat it.”

 

“If you say so,” Spot laughed, starting to pull away from Race’s grip. He leaned over to where he had put the food earlier, and handed it to Race. “You pick a movie, I’ll get the cutlery.”

 

“What a gentleman,” Race joked, heading out of the entryway and towards the main couch in the living room.

 

“You fuckin’ know it.” 

 

Race seated himself on the worn couch in the living room, sinking into the cushions after depositing the food bag on the table. He settled in with ease, scrolling through the movies on Netflix while Spot gathered things from the kitchen. It wasn’t long before he found some action movie they had meant to watch various times, but never seemed to find the time for.

 

“Hey Spot?” Race called, leaning over to the direction of the kitchen.

 

“Yeah?” Spot replied, almost absent mindedly. 

 

“Got any booze?” 

 

“Yeah. We've got shitty beer and shitty vodka.” 

 

“You should get us some.” Race continued, flicking through the other movies to see if there was anything better.  

 

“Shitty beer or shitty vodka?” Spot replied, voice louder now. Race turned on the couch to face Spot, who was now standing in the doorway. He was leaning on the frame, shirt sliding up just that slightest amount to reveal a slither of skin. 

 

Race thought for a bit before replying. “Beer.”

 

“Ain't it ‘beer before liquor, never sicker’?” Spot asked, brow furrowed, immediately jumping to the conclusion that they would end up drinking both. He was probably right. 

 

“Hang on, ain't it the other way round?” Race replied, racking his brain for the phrase in question. 

 

“‘Liquor before beer, never been sicker’? Really? That don’t rhyme, dumbass.”

 

“I mean ‘Liquor after beer, you're in the clear’.”

 

Spot snorted. “It's ‘Liquor  _ before _ beer, you're in the clear’.”

 

“And how would you know?” Race asked, determined to argue his point, even if he had the itching feeling he might be wrong.

 

“I think I drink enough alcohol to know by now,” Spot said with his trademark smirk on his face. He was smug. “Or do you not trust me?”

 

Race just pouted, conceding that he was wrong. Seeing his pout, Spot just rolled his eyes, causing Race to deepen his pout. He was being dramatic, they both knew that. He wasn’t all that hurt over being wrong over something so trivial. But Spot still came over, cradling Race’s head with his hand to kiss his boyfriend on the temple. 

 

“Don’t look so hurt, ya big baby,” Spot teased, but he did stroke his hair before walking back for the cutlery. “So vodka an’ then beer? Or just one?”

 

“Beer today, vodka tomorrow?” Race asked, furrowing his brow.

 

“Tomorrow?” Spot asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who says I want you here tomorrow?”

 

Race just flipped him off, causing Spot to laugh. 

 

“Beer it is,” Spot said, smiling as he walked back into the kitchen. It wasn’t long before he was back, holding two bowls and cutlery in one hand, with two beer bottles in the other.

 

“You picked a movie yet?” He asked, setting his things on the table and opening up the food containers. 

 

“Yup,” Race replied, leaning forward towards the food. “That action movie we keep puttin’ off.”

 

“Nice,” Spot commented, grabbing a serving spoon and handing it to Race, the pair of them serving up their food as he continued talking. “Think we’ll actually watch it?”

 

Race laughed, looking over to see Spot smirking at him. “Depends on how you play your cards.”

 

They settled into the couch, seated next to each other with their sides pressed together. They were as close as they could physically get and still eat comfortably, wanting the content warmth of the other. 

 

They got closer as the movie progressed, abandoning their empty bowls in favour for the warmth of the others body and the comforting cool glass of their beer bottles. Race ended up leaning into Spot’s side, one arm around his waist and the other holding his beer. 

 

They had gone through more as they went through the movie, and now Race was comfortably riding the edge of tipsy. Any more and he would be drunk, just as he felt Spot probably was. His boyfriend was a lightweight, to many people’s surprise. Not many people knew, and even less people saw him truly hammered. Race smiled at the thought that he was one who Spot trusted with both the knowledge and the sight of it.

 

Race chugged the rest of his drink, leaning over to put it on the floor with more of his empties. Spot made a noise of protest, as Race left the space in his side. His brow was creased, and he was starting to pout. Race just leaned back in to kiss his cheek, before settling back under his boyfriend’s arm.

 

“What was that for?” Spot asked, voice edged with a faint slur of a tongue loosened by alcohol. He turned to face his boyfriend, his brows creasing again. Race just laughed, Spot was adorable when he was confused. 

 

“The kiss?” Race clarified before continuing his thought. “Jus’ felt like it.”

 

The crease in Spot’s brows deepened, and Race just laughed at the sight. He leaned up to kiss at the corner of his boyfriend’s jaw, smiling as he did so. 

 

“ _ That’s _ because you’re cute when you don’t know what’s happenin’,” Race added with a drunken giggle. If Spot was sober, if his guards were up and all sense of self preservation in place, he would have hit Race. Playfully of course. But he was drunk. They both were. So Spot repressed a blush with a mumbled ‘shut up’.

 

“Is the mighty Spot Conlon blushing?” Race teased, a smile spreading across his face as Spot’s blush deepened, spreading across his cheeks. 

 

“No,” Spot mumbled almost aggressively, turning his head away from Race. “Shut up.”

 

Race saw Spot’s blush go from being embarrassed about the kisses, to being embarrassed at his reaction. He didn’t know how to handle affection well, and didn’t know how to handle his reaction to it either. Race adjusted his position, sitting up straighter so he could lightly grab Spot’s jaw and turn it towards him.

 

“Hey,” He said softly, all traces of his teasing gone as he dropped his hand to Spot’s chest. “It’s okay. You don’t gotta be embarrassed. It’s just me an’ you.”

 

Spot’s eyes softened, losing their defensive edge. His voice remained quiet as he spoke. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

 

“An’ that’s okay too,” Race continued, trying to settle the anxiety that was creeping up inside of Spot. He hid it well, but it was there nonetheless. “If it’s too much I can stop?”

 

Spot sighed, bowing his head. 

 

“Nah,” He said so quietly Race had to strain to hear him. “It’s okay. I like it. Jus’ not used to it.”

 

“Well in that case I’ll have to kiss you more,” Race said with a joking edge to his voice, hoping to ease the tension and the serious air their conversation had gained. “ Exposure therapy. If you’re okay with that?”

 

A smile spread across Spot’s face, starting small, but growing until it was close to his normal smirk. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

 

Race smiled back, eyes soft as he stared at Spot. He leaned in closer, bringing his face towards Spot. Slowly, so if he wanted to pull away, he could. But he didn’t. So Race gently placed his lips to Spot’s cheek, kissing him softly before pulling away. 

 

Spot was looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky himself. Like he picked up a rock and carved it into a star with his bare hands. An indescribable act of nature. It was a look of awe and some unknown emotion that Race didn’t know how to describe. He could describe numbers, knew how they worked in almost every every equation. But Spot was an equation he just couldn’t solve. 

 

Every time he thought he had Spot figured out, knew every action, every word that crossed his lips, every look upon his face Spot changed. He was a storm of a boy, ever changing and unpredictable. 

 

He didn’t know Spot could look at him like that. Race had seen glimpses, like a flash out of the corner of his eye or that feeling that someone is behind you. And then it disappeared.

 

But not now. Spot was still looking at him, face soft and glowing with such adoration. 

 

“I love you,” Spot said, simply and with such honesty like it was a fact. It wasn’t something either of them had said to the other before. Race’s heart held in his chest, skipping a beat as Spot looked on. 

 

Race had never thought of love before Spot. It was just a concept, a word people said to each other but never to him. But then came Spot. A storm of a boy who shook every foundation, every truth, everything Race held dear.

 

He had wanted to say it to Spot for the longest time. I love you. But he held back, attempting to show his love through words and action. Spot wasn’t great with love. With feelings, With relationships. But he was getting better with time. And Race didn’t want to rush him. Say it too early, and scare Spot off. 

 

So he held those words within his heart, knowing he may never speak or hear those words. He was okay with that. He knew what they had and how it worked. 

 

But then as usual, Spot changed everything. 

 

He let out a huff of a laugh, almost a snort. It was just like Spot to shake him to his core just as he thought he knew everything. 

 

Spot’s face fell just that smallest amount, unnoticable if you weren’t staring at him. If you didn’t know every plane and curve of his face. But Race did. Spot turned to him, face hardening. But not with anger. Determination. Earnest. 

 

“I mean it, Race. I really love ya,” Spot said, voice filled with some much love that Race didn’t know what to do. So he laughed. Not his smartest decision, but, drunk on alcohol and on Spot, his system was fit to burst with joy. So he laughed. 

 

Spot’s face fell again, self preservation coming out as his barriers rose. Before he could do anything, say anything, Race twisted out of his arms and onto Spot so he was straddling his boyfriend’s lap. His legs were tucked beside him, hands coming up to gently touch at Spot’s neck, almost cradling his jaw. Spot’s brow furrowed again, barriers cracking at Race’s touch. Race pressed their foreheads together, staring into Spot’s eyes with as much emotion as he could muster. 

 

Their breath intermingling, intertwining, joining in such an intimate way. Race’s voice was quiet as he spoke.

 

“Really,” He said simply, all laughter gone. He drew up as much serious emotion as his drunken mind would let him, letting all the emotion for Spot flow out with that one word. 

 

“Really,” Spot replied, with the same honesty and adoration as before. 

 

Something in Race’s heart bloomed. Spot loved him. Spot Conlon, the boy who was terrible with emotions. The boy who spoke with actions, not words. The boy who loved him so much he threw all caution to the wind just to tell him. 

 

Laughter bubbled up Race’s throat, happy and filled with such love that he didn’t know he contained. But just as Spot brought it out in himself, he brought it out in Race too. Drew up all feelings of love and adoration that Race felt but didn’t realise he truly  _ felt.  _

 

Spot started to pull away, no longer leaning his forehead against Race’s. His face changed, that tiny almost microscopic flicker of an emotion shift. 

 

Drawing his hands back to Spot’s jaw, Race pulled his boyfriend closer. He held him close enough that their breath entwined together once more, but far enough apart that Race could see every emotion pass over Spot’s face. 

 

“I’m not laughin’ at you,” He said, head shaking. “I’m just real happy right now.”

 

Spot’s brow furrowed again, face turning up in confusion. “Why?” 

 

Still smiling, still giddy on cheap beer and the weight of Spot’s love, Race leaned in closer to Spot. Lips brushing against the edge of Spot’s ear, he spoke in a not-quite-whisper. “‘Cause I love you too.”

 

He pulled back, staring at Spot with all the wonder and awe of a kid on Christmas. And Spot stared back with all the wonder and awe of a boy who just got told he was loved.

 

Race knew he had a stupidly giddy look on his face, but he didn’t care. Because Spot was looking just as stupidly giddy as he was. They both just sat there, drinking in the moment, making it last as long as they possibly could. Race wanted to savour this moment. Take in every detail, every fact, everything he saw and felt. Because it was love. 

 

He could have sat there forever, with Spot’s face in his hands and Spot’s arms around his waist. But Spot surged forward, kissing the look off his face. It wasn’t hot or heated, as so many of their kisses were, it wasn’t fast and heavy, laden with lust and want. It was soft, slow, pulling out the love and placing it into something physical. 

 

Spot was a storm of a boy and he kissed like the ocean. He kissed like a drowning man needs air. He kissed with so much love it washed over Race like a wave, overwhelming him and rushing through him. 

 

Race got lost in Spot’s kisses. 

 

Spot pulled away, Race chasing his lips with his own. Spot merely grinned, voice hoarse as he spoke for the first time in what felt like an age. “Easy there tiger, or we’ll never get anythin’ done.”

 

Race laughed, drunk on so many emotions he didn’t care to count. “Usin’ my own words against me, how could you.”

 

“Shut up, you love it,” Spot replied, moving his hands across from where they were wrapped around Race’s waist to settle on his hips.

 

“Yeah, I do,” Race replied, spawning a grin from the pair of them. “But honestly? I’m not up for much right now. But if we could cuddle in bed I’d really appreciate it. I think my legs are goin’ numb sittin’ here.”

 

Spot snorted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, if you want to say hey, feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://www.themeraldgraves.tumblr.com)


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